


A Second Chance At Life

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-11
Updated: 2009-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: Summary: (prompt)“Remorse at the time of death (as Albus said) might change the results.” As Severus lies dying he wishes that he had been able to do things differently.  A certain ex-headmaster cannot help interfering, even from beyond the grave.





	1. Little Boy Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything Harry Potter, related nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. It all belongs to JK Rowling. Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers and any other entity involved. 

 

Notes: This story was written "snape_after_dh" challenge on live journal. It was written as a one shot but has now become a longer story. This is post DH but will be complient with it, and with the epilogue. There will be some Harry/Draco and eventually some Harry/Sev. But that won't happen for a very long time.

Thanks to Claudia for betaing and being your wonderful, supportive self and to Cyndie who is simply divine.

For Mystkyten because she is wonderful!

 

A Second Chance At Life

 

Chapter 1 – Little Boy Lost

 

As he lay dying in the shrieking shack, his life slowly fading, the last thing Severus expected to see was a pair of familiar green eyes gazing down at him. Much to his amazement there was no satisfaction in those eyes at his fate. Instead they showed sympathy, care, concern and worry about him, Severus Snape.

Such a beautiful vibrant green, easy to see even behind those ridiculous glasses; Lily’s eyes had truly been reborn in her son. Severus had never really thought of Harry as Lily’s child before. He had only ever considered the boy to be James’, all James’, a monstrosity forced upon his Lily, his sweet, wonderful Lily. That was what Severus had always thought, until now anyway. He had kept Potter’s spawn alive for her. Now, as he lay bleeding on this filthy wooden floor, he found that his intense dislike had gone. Long before Harry Potter had even come to Hogwarts, he had hated the boy simply for having had the temerity to live when his mother had died; but he had been wrong, had he not? Harry Potter was Lily’s son too. He saw it at last, when it was already far too late.

_“Take them…take them!”_ he rasped as he gave the boy his memories, as he clutched in desperation at Harry’s robes. Lily’s son had to know. Severus knew he was dying; he desperately needed to tell the boy everything – everything Dumbledore had not – so he did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances, he shared his memories, all of them…well, all the relevant ones anyway. A slow smirk appeared on the pale face at thoughts he would _not share,_ but it faded almost instantly. Now Lily’s son would hate him totally, as if the boy did not hate him enough already…not that he deserved anything less. 

But as Harry accepted the memories and placed them in what appeared to be a flask, presumably for later viewing, those eyes did not show hatred, they showed sympathy, sadness.

His throat was closing up, filling with blood. He tried to speak. He wanted to say something else, wanted to make things right, to apologise, because this was the end and there would be no more chances, not for him at least.

“Look…at…me…” the words barely made it past his pallid lips.

_I am sorry, Harry._ The words were almost tangible…almost, but not quite. It was too late, he could speak no longer and his limbs felt too heavy to move.

Severus must have drifted for a while because, when he came to himself again, Harry had vanished and the stench of evil was back. The Dark Lord had returned to the shack but Severus, his mind spinning, could not focus on a reason why. He could only hope Harry was long gone for his capture now would be disastrous. It was not time, not yet. Much to his relief there were no shouts of discovery, no agonised screams; Harry was no longer there.

“Get that thing out of here,” Voldemort spat. Severus did not know to whom the Dark Lord was talking; he could not see properly or move his head to get a better view. However, he did know to whom the monster was referring. Is that what he had become, a _thing_ to be disposed of?

He hardly felt the hands that clasped him around his arms or the swirling feeling, the squeezing sensation at his solar plexus, as he was Apparated away from the site of his murder. Was he dead? He could not speak and his limbs were frozen…it must be the result of Nagini’s venom. Was he dying by degrees? 

First his voice, then his limbs, what would be next?

He could still see a little, though he could not move his eyes, or blink. He could smell, too. The scents of the forest overwhelmed him. He was in the Forbidden Forest. It was dark and the smell of pine needles was strong and tangy. His hearing seemed intact as well and the distinct noises of the forest were plain to hear as well as the comments of the men who held him.

“Fuck you, Snape,” said Amycus Carrow, his curse followed swiftly by a kick to Severus’ ribs and then another. He could not move or defend himself; it was far too late for self-defence. A short laugh, from Yaxley, or at least Severus thought it was Yaxley, encouraged Carrow as he took his revenge for petty slights and misdemeanors. He used his feet to extract retribution, seemingly not wanting to soil his hands on Severus’ body. Severus hardly noticed the pain. He was used to pain, having, after all, known it for most of his life.

Then he was alone, in the darkness, with a few more bruises and only the damp ground for company. But not for long, if Nagini’s poison did not get him, the creatures of the forest would.

Severus wondered where Harry was and hoped he was winning. He wanted so desperately to be there for the final battle, to help the Gryffindor and to protect him, but it was not to be. The teenaged saviour-of-the-wizarding-world was so physically weak compared to the Dark Lord and he was so young and all on his own. Groaning inwardly, Severus wondered in despair how Potter could possibly stand up to and triumph over the consummate evil that was Voldemort. Harry surely couldn’t, could he? Severus tried his best to believe in even the tiniest possibility of success.

Now that he was alone at last, Severus thought it was actually quite peaceful here in the forest. He realised as he drifted in and out of consciousness, waiting for death to come, that it would be welcome. He had nothing left to live for…he had had nothing left for a very long time. But death, it seemed, was not about to oblige him too quickly.

_I was cruel to you, Harry!_ he shouted, but no sound could be heard. The words were only in his mind. Harry could not hear him anymore; no one would ever hear him again.

Severus had experienced many regrets during his sad and sorry life, but it was his treatment of Harry that haunted him most. He wished with all his heart his ability to speak had lasted a little longer, a moment or two, that was all. Just so he could have apologised to the boy for the way he had treated him over the years. Harry had looked at him so kindly during those last few moments, almost as if he had sympathy for his most hated teacher; something so unexpected he wondered if he’d imagined it. No one had ever sympathised with Severus in his trials and tribulations, except for Dumbledore (and he always had his ulterior motives) and, of course, Lily herself…so very long ago.

_I’m sorry, Harry. I wish I could try again._ The thought was softer this time but none the less heartfelt.

Suddenly, in the relative quiet of the forest, Severus heard a chuckle, a familiar sort of laugh penetrate his fuzzy consciousness. He knew it far better than he knew his own (but then how often had he laughed, anyway?). A frown formed in his mind but he was not sure it actually made it to the surface of his face. Was he going crazy? He surely could not be hearing that _particular_ voice.

“Oh, my boy,” said the voice, echoing softly in the hollow in which Severus lay. “My dear boy, no one deserves a second chance more than you do. Such regret at the moment of death, such remorse, Severus, and certainly not all of it warranted. You have more than earned another chance, my dear boy. Have a good life this time around.”

“Albus?”

Severus felt his throat grow warm and start to tingle, a feather light touch stroked his cheek, a ghost of a whisper tickled his ear and then it was gone and he was alone again. He felt chilled. The blood that had been so warm when it pumped out of him was crusted now and cold. He felt small and weak and fragile.

Severus slept.

 

******************

 

Harry had never been as tired as this in his entire life. He was weary, exhausted, bone-achingly shattered. So what the heck was he doing wandering the edges of the forbidden forest when he should have been sleeping?

He just could not bring himself to go back to the castle and face everyone…not yet. Harry felt numb. He knew pain and grief would kick in soon at the sorrow of losing Fred and Remus and Tonks. Oh, Remus! The last time he had seen Remus they had fought. Had Remus truly forgiven him since then? He would never know now. And what on earth would happen to Teddy?

No, he couldn’t face anyone at the moment, let alone just about everyone he knew. Seeing grief in the eyes of his friends at their losses was an anguish he could not contemplate just now. He couldn’t cope with his own losses, let alone theirs. Voldemort was dead at last, yes, but at what cost?

A slight movement in the direction of the forest caught his attention and he thought he saw Hagrid. Was the giant searching for injured animals? It would be just like him. There had been so many hexes flying around and the school had suffered a great deal of damage. Any number of animals, not to mention magical creatures, on the fringes of the forest could well have been caught in the crossfire. The damage was so extensive it would take months, maybe years to repair, but Harry did not want to think about that either. 

The grounds of Hogwarts were swarming with Aurors who were clearing up the last of the Death Eater stragglers, but nobody had bothered him or tried to stop him and he doubted that anyone would. He had seen Alecto Carrow Petrified and several men who were magically restrained. Harry didn’t know any of them, but they were clearly Death Eaters as evidenced by their robes,. One of them bore a striking resemblance to Vincent Crabbe, presumably Crabbe senior and Harry wondered whether he knew yet that his son was dead. He had seen Lucius Malfoy held at wand point, looking pale and wan, while Draco and Narcissa stood nearby holding each other close, the blond boy sobbing quietly on his mother’s shoulder, his clenched white fist standing out starkly against her robes. 

There was devastation everywhere. He heard shouts over to his right and saw flashes of wandlight. But whatever was happening seemed to be under control now and was a long way from where Harry stood watching. Without conscious thought, he turned left and walked deeper into the forest.

It was darker here. The trees were closer together and he was moving downhill. The activity was behind him now. Up ahead an owl hooted. Harry wondered if it was delivering post to someone and his heart ached as he thought of Hedwig.

Off to the left he saw a flash of light, a bluish glow, and he froze. Could it be a unicorn? Harry had not seen an adult one since his first year at Hogwarts and that had been a horrible experience. Seeing such a beautiful, magical creature killed so mercilessly had haunted his dreams since he was eleven-years-old. But at least the foul creature who had perpetrated that dreadful crime was finally, irrevocably dead. With a glimmer of hope, Harry wondered if unicorns had returned to the Forbidden Forest.

Holding his breath, Harry slowly and carefully began to move forward, desperately hoping he would catch a better glimpse of the animal up ahead. It felt like a sign, somehow, of better things to come. The bushes he brushed past rustled gently; the unicorn moved away but did not seem scared by the noise. He trod on a twig, which snapped underfoot with a sound like a thunderclap in the quiet peace of the dark forest. Still the creature did not run away, instead, it seemed to be waiting for Harry to reach it. It waited quietly, mostly obscured behind what seemed to be a thicket of Rhododendrons whilst Harry made his way slowly through the clumps of bracken that seemed to impede his progress at each step.

Finally, he pushed through the dense undergrowth to where it began thinning out into a clearing and Harry at last saw the unicorn clearly; except it was not a unicorn, it was a doe, a silver doe. Harry’s heart nearly stopped as he gasped for air in stunned shock. 

“Mum?” he whispered. “Mum, is that you?”

The doe was standing amidst some moss covered rocks. She lifted her head and looked steadily at Harry. She was breathtakingly beautiful. 

His breath hitched. 

Then the doe turned her head and slowly began to move away.

“No!” Harry cried out. “Please don’t go!” 

But the doe was fading away, rapidly. Harry began to run. The bracken did not grow so thickly in this part of the forest so there were no obstructions, but the ground was soft and cushioned by moss, scattered with pine needles. It was spongy underfoot which made it hard to run, but run Harry did. 

The doe, however, continued to fade.

“No,” he said again, more desperately this time. “Please, Mum, stay.” 

But Lily, if indeed it had been Lily, had gone, faded away like morning dew. Harry fell to his knees. The air was heavy with the scent of vanilla, an unusual aroma for the woods.

“Oh, Mum!” Harry whispered. Yet even though he registered sadness at her disappearance, he also felt somehow warmed, comforted, reassured. Strangely, perhaps, considering he had caught only a glimpse of the marvelous creature, things did not seem as dark as they had just a short while ago.

Instinctively Harry reached out and buried his fingers in the thick spongy moss that covered the rocks in front of him and began touching the ground where the doe had stood.

A sudden movement caught his eye and he stared at a pile of rocks off to the side, behind which there seemed to be a pile of dark clothing. Had it moved or was the filtered sunlight playing tricks? Harry watched it closely for several long seconds and, all at once, it moved again.

Conversely, Harry stilled.

He reached down and drew out his mended wand. There had been so many Death Eaters around just a short while ago, was this one of Voldemort’s men? He had only beaten the Dark Lord by accident but it had taken all he had to give. He was fairly certain he would not be able to fight a full grown wizard at the moment, let alone a Death Eater. Perhaps he should stun his opponent before he could be attacked?

Slowly creeping closer, Harry realised the lump under the clothes looked too small to be a fully grown wizard and suddenly he felt sick. Here was another _something_ reminiscent of first year, the shadowy figure that looked like a child. He remembered forth year as well, the hideous creature that had been lowered into the cauldron by Wormtail. He raised his wand once more. Had Voldemort somehow been resurrected again? Harry had been positive the evil wizard was completely dead but what if he had been wrong? He didn’t think he had enough energy to fight the man this time, not so soon. But he was all alone out here in the Forbidden Forest and he could not let the monstrous creature get away yet again.

Harry crawled closer.

Then whoever or whatever it was underneath the dark shroud let out a pathetically weak sob.

Harry stopped in surprise. Death Eaters didn’t sob as far as he knew. Well, maybe they did, but not when Harry was around. Surely Voldemort didn’t sob! Harry couldn’t imagine such a circumstance at all. Deciding on a different course of action, he cleared his throat rather noisily and now it was the stranger’s turn to still.

The figure turned and looked at him, black robes falling back slightly.

It was a child.

And not just any child. It was a small, thin boy with dark, straggly hair, stringy hanks of the greasy strands partly obscuring his face. His eyes were large and dark, glittering fearfully despite the fact that the child had raised his chin in a challenge. The somewhat thin lips were set in a firm line in a small pinched face that was somewhat dominated by a rather large nose which seemed somewhat incongruous among the other features.

Harry knew this child. He had seen him not very long ago in Snape’s memories. The boy in the pensieve had been one or two years older than this child, but there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that the little boy in front of him was Severus Snape.

Harry was completely and utterly stunned. 

How in the name of all that was magic could this child be here? He could not for the life of him figure out what had happened. Harry had seen the ex-Death Eater die and he certainly had not been a child at the time. So how did a five or six-year-old Severus Snape come to be in the Forbidden Forest just hours after Harry had killed Voldemort, just hours after the last battle ended? Mere hours after Harry had seen the man bleed to death on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack!

Still dumbstruck by his discovery, Harry didn’t know what to do or say. In a sudden, jerky movement the boy in front of him lifted a small, rather dirty little hand and wiped it across his face in a pathetic attempt to wipe away some of the copious tears streaming down his cheeks and Harry’s heart clenched with pity. He knew one thing for sure, he could not leave little Severus here alone. He would find out what had happened later, but right now he had to get the child to warmth, to safety. 

“Hello, Prof…Sna…erm…Severus. Do you know who I am?” Harry asked gently. The child looked at him with large dark eyes; his hand came up towards his mouth and hovered there almost as if he wanted to suck his thumb, but he didn’t. Instead he looked at his hand and lowered it again quickly, almost as if such self-comforting behaviour was something he had been denied permission to do.

Slowly the boy shook his head. “How do you know my name?” the child asked, his small hand forming a fist in front of him, his chin raised up in challenge. “Do you know where I am, cos I think I’m lost?” 

Harry smiled at him, hoping to reassure the small boy. The child was obviously terrified. Harry could see his terror in every line of his body, in the way the small white teeth bit his lower lip in a vain but transparent attempt to make it stop trembling.

“Er…I have seen you before…er…Severus,” Harry said. The child looked skeptical and when he raised a small, dark eyebrow, just like his adult self might have done, Harry almost laughed and managed to catch himself just in time. 

“I haven’t seen you,” Severus said in his little boy voice. “Were you watching me or somefing?” 

Harry smiled more widely. “It’s a long story,” he replied, “but I have seen you, I promise.”

“Big people don’t always keep promises,” Severus said earnestly, “mostly don’t, seems like.”

Harry had to restrain another laugh. The situation was totally bizarre; somehow he was in the middle of nowhere with a tiny Severus Snape, who seemed to be as prickly and suspicious as his grown-up self.

The child in front of him was shivering quite violently now. He was dwarfed by the large black robes that were almost falling off his small shoulders, but his little fists were still clenched, his chin still firm and his gaze challenging. 

“I always keep mine,” Harry told him solemnly and, when the child tilted his head to one side and studied Harry speculatively, he continued, “cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” He extended a hand to the little boy. “You look cold to me. Why don’t you let me take you somewhere warm, get you some clothes that fit you?” 

Harry watched with interest as a small hand made the journey back to his mouth and this time his grubby little thumb was plugged right in, effectively preventing any attempt to speak. It was easy to see the child still didn’t completely trust him. After careful consideration, however, he nodded instead and cautiously extended his other hand clutching Harry’s fingers with his own small ones.

Part of Harry wanted to cry for the little boy who obviously had no idea what was happening to him and no clue who Harry might be; but, he had obviously had enough of being alone and so had decided to trust Harry, something Harry was pretty sure did not come easily to this child.

Harry stood up and helped the child to his feet as the huge, dark robe fell to the ground and pooled around the boy’s feet. The shirt underneath, with the top three buttons undone, exposed a neck that seemed completely unblemished, but the evidence of past injury was very apparent as the robes were stiff and hardened with blood. Harry had seen the blood for himself, the last time he had been with Severus Snape. Harry had thought the man dead – who could lose so much blood and live?

Harry wondered if Snape’s current situation was in any way connected with Dumbledore; it seemed exactly the sort of thing he would be involved in. Having recently met the old man in that vision or dream or whatever it was, when he had appeared to be at King’s Cross and made his decision to come back and fight, Harry had no doubt that Dumbledore could somehow stopper death and perhaps did have the power to offer an alternate future.

Maybe Snape had sought redemption? Although that seemed somewhat strange to Harry because, as far as he knew, Snape had redeemed himself already, time and time again. Perhaps this was some sort of weird reward for an awful life? The memory of the emptiness and the bleakness of the way Severus Snape had lived and died chilled Harry. Yet the fact that he had never deviated from his self imposed tasks: to protect Harry, even when he hated him, to contribute to the destruction of Voldemort, and to never waver from these intentions, made Harry admire him very much indeed.

Severus Snape had never been a nice man, but he had been an honourable one and, contrary to what Harry had once believed, he was also very, very brave. If anyone deserved a second chance, it was Severus Snape. But how like Albus Dumbledore, if indeed he was involved, to simply return the man to childhood and abandon him in the Forbidden Forest. The child was scared and alone and probably had no idea of the events that had transpired this day to bring about his situation. Dumbledore could not have known Harry was going to be here, that he would need time on his own and would wander into the Forbidden Forest seeking sanctuary and escape. Anything could have happened to the child; he could have been killed and no one would ever have known.

Suddenly Harry remembered the silver doe. It was the symbol for his mother, true, but was also the form of Snape’s Patronus. Harry had been given a message, had been led to this place. Maybe Dumbledore had known that Snape would not be alone so very long after all.

The little boy was still looking at him, eyes narrowed, thumb in mouth, long robes puddled around his feet. There was no way the child could walk any distance like that and Harry thought he should get him back as soon as he could. It was far from safe in the forest and it was getting colder.

Last Christmas Hermione had broken her usual practice of giving Harry a book and had instead given him a Leatherman knife. Harry loved it and carried it with him all the time. He took it out now. Severus was watching closely with his dark liquid eyes.

“I’d shrink these to fit you,” Harry told the child, “but I don’t know the charm, so I’m going to cut them down, okay? I won’t hurt you I promise.”

Severus took his thumb out of his mouth. “Are you not a proper wizard then?” he asked curiously and Harry smiled again. 

“Not yet, I’m still at school. I still have a lot to learn. Come on, let’s cut those robes down and get you back to my school, get you some clean clothes.”

Harry knelt down and started to trim the skirt of the long robes so he could fashion a type of poncho for the boy to wear. Severus stood quietly and let him, watching carefully all the time. It was only when Harry had removed quite a lot of spare fabric that he realised the child had bare feet. It made sense, if only he’d thought about it, as the shoes Severus had been wearing would now be far too big for this little creature. Harry wondered how long the little boy had been wandering through the forest, clutching handfuls of robe so that he didn’t trip over them, and whether he had lost his shoes along the way.

Before he even realised he’d made a decision, Harry reached down and scooped the little boy into his arms wrapping the cut-up robe around him like a blanket. “I’m going to carry you to the school, Severus,” he said. “You don’t have any shoes and you might hurt your feet if you walk any more.” The little boy’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.

“You think I might hurt my feet?” he whispered. “But I can walk, I’m a big boy.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. I can carry you.”

The astonishment didn’t lessen; the eyes were still wide. From Severus’ new position in Harry’s arms he could see Harry’s face clearly. Solemnly he inspected it for several seconds, as if trying to judge Harry’s sincerity. And then he nodded. “’K,” he said, giving gracious permission.

He wrapped his long thin legs around Harry’s waist and after another second or two placed his arms tightly about Harry’s neck.

He was so thin and light, a wee scrap of a thing, like nothing so much as a deer calf, all long bony limbs and sharp elbows and knees. As Harry began to walk, the child buried his head in Harry’s neck. His face was still wet with tears and Harry felt them soaking into his neck as long damp eyelashes brushed Harry’s skin.

“You’re safe with me, Severus,” Harry whispered. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, not ever again.” The little boy let out a small sob and nuzzled closer to his new found protector. Harry wondered about who had hurt him before and why the child had not asked about any of the adults in his life – that was…if he remembered them. 

“W’us your name, boy?” Severus asked him, his voice muffled against Harry’s shoulder, his fists curled into Harry’s hair. 

“My name is Harry.”

Severus giggled. “Sounds like hairy,” he said and giggled again.

Harry grinned at the sound. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined hearing Severus Snape giggle. 

There were lots of questions that Harry wanted the answers to: how did Severus get in the forest, for example? Did he have memories of what had happened? Did he know who he was? Why had he become de-aged? Was he going to stay that way? And, what the heck was Harry going to do with him now? But the questions could wait, they weren’t that important. Of primary concern right now was getting the child somewhere safe and warm.

“Come on, Severus,” he said gently, instinctively hoisting the child onto his hip to make carrying him easier. “Let’s get you home.”

 

***************


	2. Little Boy Found

Thanks Cyndie for help with the rewrite and Claudia for betaing.

 

Chapter 2 – Little Boy Found 

 

Molly knew that in the years to follow she would never forget the day Harry brought Severus Snape back to Hogwarts.

She found herself sitting in a corner of the Great Hall feeling numb, her emotions having shut down over the last few hours, leaving her an automaton. She felt like she was just going through the motions of living but feeling nothing. It was too soon to feel anything but emptiness, a dull ache where Fred used to be. Therefore, she sat in a corner of the Great Hall nursing the object that had become her talisman over the last year. The clock that once graced a wall in her kitchen at the Burrow now accompanied her everywhere. Lacking any real control she had succumbed to superstition and told herself that if she kept it close, kept it with her, everything would be all right.

However, it had failed her. Even though she kept it with her, Fred still died. She had been fine, well okayish more like, but managing…until she saw the clock…the clock made it all just too real. So she sat with it now, clasped on her lap, away from all the mayhem. 

All around her people moved about, some in a daze, some bustling as though on serious errands. She was dimly aware that Arthur was directing a group of older children to clear up some of the rubble in the Great Hall. It was in a state of complete chaos and needed to be sorted out a bit before any food could be served…if there was any food…and if anyone could eat. Maybe Arthur was coping by keeping busy?

At that particular moment, though, Molly Weasley did not really care. Her reality had narrowed to the clock face hidden in her skirt and to the hands which pointed to Fred and George. The clock represented her family, told her their comings and goings and whether or not they were safe. But she couldn’t look at it anymore; she had no need. The clock face was etched on her mind, forever a reminder of this terrible day. Most of the clock hands pointed to “At Hogwarts”, but Fred and George…her darling boys…their hands no longer pointed in the same direction as those of their family nor even of each other. Fred’s hand said “Lost” and George’s said “In despair”. She wasn’t sure where her living twin son was right now; she just knew he needed to be alone and that there was nothing on this earth, even as his mother, she could do to alleviate his pain. Not yet able to face the pain of loss and the pain of helplessness, she sat alone and numb, empty.

Aurors had been swarming everywhere earlier, asking questions and trying to instill some order amongst the chaos. Hogwarts was wrecked and Molly, who had thought of herself as a wife and mother and nothing else for more years than she cared to remember, had killed someone and lost a son…nothing would ever be the same again.

As she sat she pictured the clock face again and again. She remembered an incident which had occurred a few months previously, Ron having returned to the Burrow while the remainder of the Golden Trio were away on their quest. She had come down one morning to find that both Harry and Hermione’s names had mysteriously appeared on the clock. At the time she had felt very warmed by this occurrence and it had given her added hope that things would turn out fine. But now something was niggling at her. As she pictured the clock in her mind she realised Harry’s hand was not pointing in the same direction as the rest of the family’s either. What had it said again? She couldn’t see it clearly. Was Harry okay?

She looked around the damaged room trying to pinpoint the boy whom she thought of as one of her own. But there was so sign of him. Ron and Hermione were huddled together sitting at one end of a long table. Ginny was with them and they were talking to each other in low tones. No one seemed to notice Harry was missing, or if they had, they probably figured he’d simply gone off to be alone for a while. Certainly there was no denying that Harry didn’t owe them anything and if he wanted take himself off for a bit he was perfectly entitled to do so.

Molly turned her attention back to the clock. Carefully and with great trepidation she seized it with both hands and gently turned it over. She scrupulously avoided looking at the clock hands belonging to either Fred or George and instead focused her gaze on the one that was labelled Harry.

Sure enough Harry’s hand was not aligned with the others, pointing in a direction all on its own...pointing to a label that said “No longer alone”. 

Molly’s eyebrows rose at the message and she didn’t quite know what to think of it. She also felt a pang of guilt stir under her emptiness. She had no doubt that she truly loved Harry like a son. How could she help but love this child, knowing so much of what he had been through in his short life? Molly truly admired the way he steadfastly fought for and struggled to do what he believed to be right despite the constant threats and dangers fate threw in his path. Lately, however, she knew her thoughts had centered on her own children with her fears and concerns for their safety.

Molly had never quite forgiven Dumbledore for repeatedly turning down her yearly request that she and Arthur be considered suitable guardians for Harry. She understood his concern about Harry’s safety and it being more important than anything; but, still, she firmly believed there must have been another way to ensure the boy’s safety and, at the same time, give him a loving home. At the very least they could have found a way to offer the child more support. 

The little pangs of guilt niggled at her because she felt she hadn’t fought as hard for Harry as she could have done all those years ago, nor had her recent concerns centered on him as much as they should have. What with the preparations for war and the concerns of keeping her family safe, she had not given him as much attention as maybe she could have. Yet, what could it mean ‘no longer alone’?

The noise level in the Great Hall had gradually quietened to a low buzz for, although nobody seemed to have much energy, no one could settle down either. Molly managed to tune out the background noise so she could concentrate on thoughts of her sons and reflect on the upheavals and tragedies of the day. Nevertheless, she noticed when a sudden silence fell over the room.

The silence seemed ominous somehow so she looked up to see everyone staring in the direction of the huge double doors that were the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry was just entering the room, looking tired and diminished somehow, but also determined. In his arms he carried a child. The child clung to him, its legs wrapped around his waist, its arms clinging tightly around his neck. The child seemed to have long dark hair but from her position she could not see if it was a boy or a girl…in the wizarding world, shoulder length hair was no indication of a child’s gender. What she could see was a thin leg, a bare foot and the small shivers from the cold evening air that ran through the slender frame.

Molly was puzzled; where would Harry have found a child? All the children accompanying families had been accounted for.

Harry was looking around, searching for something, and when his eyes met hers she realised with a jolt that he was looking for her. Ron stood and walked over to his friend. Her strong, handsome, youngest son towered over Harry looking worried as he spoke to the wizarding world’s hero of the hour. She could not hear what he was saying nor did she hear Harry’s reply, but she did see Ron’s expression transform from one of concern to one of shock. He put his hand to his mouth as his eyes widened in astonishment and he fell back a step, his head shaking in patent disbelief. 

Harry hitched the child up onto his hip and moved towards Molly. The murmur of background noise increased as people began to speculate on the identity of the child. Everyone was looking at Harry and the youngster he was carrying. All activity in the room came to a stand still as people stared and began whispering to each other. The further into the room Harry came the louder the whispering grew.

Suddenly the child lifted its head and looked around at the groups of people in astonishment.

“Is this Hogwarts, Harry?” he asked, his voice ringing out surprisingly clearly in the large room. Molly wasn’t sure how, but when the child spoke she knew it was a little boy.

“Yes, this is Hogwarts,” Harry replied. “This is the Great Hall. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s very messy,” the little boy observed, looking around with a rather disdainful expression on his small face. “Are these people tidying up? Why are they tidying up?”

“There was a big battle here today and, consequently, a lot of mess.”

“Were people hurt?” the little boy asked anxiously, this time his voice betraying concern.

“Yeah, a few people _were_ hurt.”

The room had fallen silent, everyone seemed to be straining to hear what was being said.

“Were my mummy and daddy hurt?”

“No, sweetie, they weren’t here.”

“Are you sure?

“I promise you, Severus, your mum and dad were not here.”

Molly felt like her heart had stopped in mid-beat.

Severus? The child was _Severus Snape_?

The moment Harry spoke Severus’ name the room had exploded with a cacophony of noise.

Severus buried his head in Harry’s shoulder and clung more tightly to his rescuer.

Harry glared around fiercely and the people closest to him fell silent. He had become a hero during his time in hiding from He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named and had cemented that heroism when he killed the dark wizard. Looking at the students and children, not to mention the adults, who surrounded them now – Molly finally understood how Harry’s life would never be the same again. She could also see how pale he looked, almost translucent. He needed to rest…he needed quiet and a space of his own…he needed to be away from all these prying eyes.

The little boy in Harry’s arms was trembling. Harry dropped a gentle kiss on the child’s head and stroked his back, trying to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Severus. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The child seemed a trifle mollified and bravely lifted his head again.

“But they are staring at us; why are they staring? It is rude to stare.”

“They’re just interested, that’s all. They won’t hurt you. If they even try I’ll hex their arses!”

The little boy’s laughter rang out and all at once the room fell silent.

“Harry, you swore!” he chided. “That’s bad!”

And then he giggled.

Unfortunately, this seemed to break people from their trance and the room erupted with noise.

“Do you think that’s Snape?”

“Can’t be him. The old bat’s dead!”

“Snape would never laugh; he’d never giggle. It’s not him I tell you.”

“It is him. It’s the greasy git, alright!”

The exclamations got louder and more insistent as half the inhabitants of the Great Hall loudly expressed their astonishment.

The little boy buried his head in Harry’s shoulder again. He was trembling harder now and Molly thought she heard a sob.

Molly felt her day could not get any stranger, any more peculiar. Now that Harry and the child were close she thought he could not be anyone but Severus Snape. Long skinny limbs and bony shoulders, straggly hair and long dark robes, the overall impression was very Snapeish indeed, only in miniature, as if he had shrunk somehow.

“It’s alright, Severus; you’re safe – I promise.” Harry held the child even more tightly and glared around him once more until the people closest to him fell silent again.

Harry finally reached her side.

“Molly,” he pleaded. “I need your help. I found Severus in the Forbidden Forest. I found him like this, Molly. He’s cold and he’s all covered in blood – I don’t know what to do.” The words came out in a rush, as if Harry could not stop them.

The child watched the proceedings with large dark eyes. Molly did not remember those eyes being so large in the adult Severus; but then they had so often been narrowed in distain, especially when they looked at her, that she hadn’t really paid them much attention. Now though, they expressed the child’s fear and loneliness, far more so than they had ever done in his adult self.

For a moment she wanted to turn away; she had just lost her own child. There was no way she had the strength or the will to take anyone into her home right now. Then a single tear trickled out of the corner of one large dark eye and started its solitary journey down a pale little cheek. Before Molly knew what she was doing, she moved forward and cupped the damp cheek, gently wiping away the tear with her fingers. She told Severus not to cry, told Harry not to worry, and fiercely admonished the people standing close to them to go about their business and stop staring.

Molly got them out of the Great Hall with quiet efficiency. She sent a silent prayer of apology to her son because she had no time to grieve for him right now and then, without removing the little boy from Harry’s arms, she steered them both out of the hall glaring at anyone close enough to her who might be considering saying anything that would upset the boys. They rushed along twisting corridors and up to Gryffindor Tower where her very Gryffindor family were camping out.

Seeing the misery on the face of the little boy had also brought Harry’s misery into sharp relief. Oh, he was doing far better than Severus was, far better than many of them were, come to that. But he was still a child in Molly’s eyes, a child who had lived through an experience that was truly the stuff of nightmares. Harry was practically her son, anyway; she had been thinking that very thought earlier – and he had asked for her help.

Molly didn’t know everything Harry had experienced this terrifying day, but she knew he had been tortured and that he had been, if not dead, then at least the very embodiment of it. And at this moment Molly thought the only thing keeping the boy standing, staving off his complete collapse, was the child that he held so protectively against his chest.

“I’ll need your help, Harry. We’ll need to find him something to wear and get him cleaned up. Is he really Severus?”

Harry simply nodded, too tired to speak. 

Later, as she bathed the child, she could see there was no doubt the child was Severus. For one thing he was as stubborn and strong willed as his adult self had been. He had been very reluctant to get in the bath and she had only been able to persuade him with warm water and bubbles and the fact that Harry was going for a shower too. She had let the child undress himself and get into the bath whilst she busied herself tidying things away. He was very skinny and pale and was covered head to foot in dried blood and filth. She washed his hair three times before it was clean. 

It was while she was soaping his skinny arms that she saw it. At first she thought it was a bruise, the mark on the little forearm; but then she had realised with shock that it was a faded dark mark. She peered at it very closely to see what it truly was, but Molly knew what it was…after all, she had seen it often enough during her lifetime. Seeing it on that innocent flesh made her want to be sick. But she could not let the child see her upset, so she hid her sadness behind a smile and proceeded to wash his neck instead.

When she washed the blood from the child’s skin she saw two deep marks in the hollow of his neck. They were not wounds any longer, they weren’t really even scars, they were pink indentations which were slightly puckered and Molly didn’t think they would ever fade. They looked like the marks made by the fangs of a very large snake…a very particular, large snake. Molly knew those marks all too well; Arthur still wore his after all these years and according to St. Mungo’s he always would.

“Oh, Severus,” she whispered sadly, placing a gentle kiss on the little boy’s wet hair.

She turned away to hide the tears stinging her eyes and saw the pile of discarded clothing lying on the bathroom floor. The robes the child had taken off were thick with crusted, hardened blood and muck from the forest floor. Disgusted at the sight, Molly simply vanished them, suppressing a shudder as she did so.

At this point Harry appeared in the doorway holding out a couple of t-shirts for Molly’s approval as acceptable sleepwear for Severus. Molly had gone on a hunt for pyjamas earlier and found nothing in Harry’s clothing, except things so old and tattered she instantly consigned them to the cleaning cloth pile. She had made a mental note to herself to take Harry shopping as soon as possible.

“Which one?” he asked, his head tilted questioningly to one side.

Molly smiled at the t-shirts Harry had picked out as being suitable for a small child. One was light blue and said _**‘Quidditch Players Do It InThe Air’**_ in dark blue lettering, the other was bright orange and read _**‘Chuddley Cannons Are Cool’**_ in a very lurid red.

“Harry, have you ever been shopping for clothes?” Molly chided gently, recognising the two t-shirts as ones Ron had once worn.

Harry blushed and looked at the floor. “No,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, we had better get you both some new things tomorrow.” Molly said firmly. 

Molly sighed as she left Harry to feed and tuck young Severus into bed. She had requested he find her so they could have a talk after he finished with his young charge. Something was up with both those boys; she just knew it. Whilst they’d been at war she’d had to keep her distance from Harry and not enfold him into her family as she had wanted to do for so very long. She had begged Dumbledore to let her adopt the boy, ever since he’d been rescued by her boys…her beautiful twins. She blinked back tears, refusing to let herself become distracted. But the war was over now and Harry was a damaged child, she could see it in the way he looked at her family with such yearning in his eyes, the way he’d offered to sacrifice himself so readily time and again. She should have intervened, threatened to go to the press with her suspicions, Arthur would have supported her, Lupin would have done, Kingsley too.

However they’d all remained loyal to Dumbledore and the cause, but at what cost to Harry?

As for Severus, the little boy was unnaturally quiet and compliant. Once he’d given in over the bath issue, he did everything she asked of him and without a word of complaint; and another thing, he hadn’t once, in all the time he’d been with Molly, asked her where his mother was. In Molly’s experience of children, that just wasn’t normal. With a worried frown she headed off to find her husband and wait for Harry, unaware she had just spent a good 45 minutes not obsessing over the fate of Fred or the pain of George.

***********

Severus was frightened as he lay snug and clean in the soft comfortable bed in Grifnor Tower…at least that’s what he thought they had called it.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him; everything was strange. He didn’t understand why he had woken up in a forest or why his clothes were far too big for him or why they were covered in blood. Of course, Severus’ clothes were usually too big for him, but they rarely had blood on them and he had never been in a forest before.

The forest had been dark and cold and Severus had been looking for the way home for what seemed like ages. He’d had to leave the shoes behind because they were far too big and it didn’t take long for his feet to hurt quite badly. He kept stubbing his toes on tree roots and scratching them on the stubbly heather. Finally, he had tripped over the end of his robes and skinned his knees badly. But Molly had healed them after the bath and, best of all, she hadn’t snapped at him once, not even when she’d had to keep emptying and refilling the bath to get him clean. Severus decided that he liked Molly. Not as much as Harry, of course. Harry, after all, had rescued him and protected him from all those scary people who had stared at him. He usually had to look after himself – and he was good at it, cos his Daddy told him he had to be a man and not be coddled: “never be weak, boy, never let them see weakness” his dad had drilled into him – nevertheless, it was really, really nice to find someone who would do it for him. 

Thinking back on his ordeal, Severus shuddered. It had been so painful when he fell and hurt himself, back in that horrible forest, and he hadn’t wanted to walk anymore. He’d known he was lost and frightened and alone, so he had curled up into a little ball and finally given in to hot, sorrowful tears.

Then the big boy had come and Severus had really not known what to do. Severus didn’t like trusting people; in his experience people hurt you. He hadn’t wanted to trust him but for some reason, on some instinctual level not totally understood, he had decided to trust this big, dark-haired, green-eyed boy who spoke to him so gently. There was just something in those green eyes – Severus' very favourite colour in all the world – something that was hard not to trust. Then the young wizard had smiled and said his name was Harry, and Severus, even through his fear, had known this stranger must be friendly and really nice. Severus hadn’t met many nice people before and those he had, well, they never told him their names – cos mostly people didn’t talk to him much. Then this young wizard – for he was a wizard, even if he wasn’t yet a proper wizard – had made Severus’ robe shorter so he didn’t fall over it anymore and then carried him all the way to the castle, talking to him and reassuring him. Severus couldn’t remember the last time anyone had carried him; he didn’t think anyone had for a very long time.

The older boy seemed like a hero to Severus. Other children had never liked him because he was strange and adults had always ignored him. Severus had never had a real friend before. Maybe he had met his first, true friend.

In what seemed like no time at all the castle had loomed before them. With some little fear and a lot of curiosity Severus had peeked through his strands of hair at the sight before him. Never had he seen anything to compare with the lights of Hogwarts and how brightly they burned. Seeing the young boy’s astonishment, Harry had chuckled and then told Severus what he had felt upon experiencing Hogwarts for the first time. It had made Severus feel all warm and fuzzy inside because nobody had ever shared anything like that with him before.

Upon entering the castle the small boy’s eyes had grown wide with wonder at the size and grandeur of the entrance hall; he had also gripped Harry very tightly for it was very large indeed. At first it had been okay but when they had entered the damaged room with all the people Severus felt nervous and confused. All these strangers had been staring at him and saying not nice things about his daddy. Well, he had thought they were talking about his daddy, because they kept saying Snape like it was a bad word and they couldn’t be talking about him because everyone called him Severus. It was true his daddy was grumpy a lot and sometimes just plain mean, but Severus still didn’t like what those people were saying about him.

Then the lady with red hair told everybody off for staring and being rude. She and Harry had taken him out of the nasty room and to a nice, quiet room with lots of red and gold curtains and cushions and for a while Severus had felt better. Looking at the warm rich colours he had decided that he liked red even more than he liked green. 

Then the lady, who said that her name was Molly, had suggested that he take a bath and he really, really hadn’t wanted to go because bath water was always cold and he was cold enough already. He had been quite adamant about _not_ getting in the tub. Also he hadn’t wanted to leave Harry. But Molly had smiled and told him that Harry would be having a shower and that she would be with him the whole time and that the bath water would be warm and have lots of bubbles. So in the end he had agreed to take the bath and it had been rather fun: there had been nice, warm water and bubbles to play with and Molly hadn’t left him alone, not once, or been cross that he had been so dirty; and it had felt so good to be warm and clean again…being a Snape, something that did not happen often in his life. 

When the bath had ended and he had been healed and dressed in a long, baggy, orange and red shirt-thing and was sitting on a big, comfy bed, Molly had left telling Harry to come find her when Severus was asleep and they’d talk. Then his Harry had brought him some soup which tasted wonderful and some really nice bread, then had come _chocolate ice_ cream. He never got ice cream! Eyes wide with astonishment he had gobbled the treat down before someone decided to remove it. At last Harry had tucked him up in bed and gone to find Molly for their talk.

So now, toasty warm in this wonderful bed but alone again, Severus was scared. A small frown creased his brow, which was normal when he concentrated really hard, and his thumb and forefinger rubbed up and down his nose several times before the thumb popped into his mouth, a habit which he had ti hide from his daddy, but which never failed to make him feel better. He really liked it here and he was worried they were going to send for his mother and father, and then Severus would really be in trouble. He wondered what would happen if he ran away. He wanted to try it, but he was so tired and it was so nice here, nobody even seemed to mind when he sucked his thumb.

So with no-one to shout at him he sucked it now and tried to hide under the duvet, just in case anyone did mind.

Suddenly he was aware of a hand stroking his hair. His first impulse was to pull away because his hair usually felt all greasy and stringy and it hardly ever got washed. Then he remembered his hair was clean and shiny and the stroking felt so comforting. He wondered if it was Molly who was stroking his hair. It was a new sensation for Severus. He didn’t think anyone had ever stroked his hair before and he didn’t want it to stop; but he did want to know who it was, so very, very carefully he opened his eyes to see.

“Hi, Severus,” Harry said. “You feeling sleepy yet?”

Severus shook his head, even though his eyes felt really heavy and he couldn’t quite stop yawning. Severus thought if he went to sleep he might wake up back in his own house and he really didn’t want that to happen yet.

“Do you remember the boy with red hair that you met? When we got to the Great Hall?”

Severus nodded. “The one that made a cross face?”

Harry smiled. “Yeah, well, he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry about that. He sent you this.”

Harry held out a teddy bear. It was a bit battered and the fur had rubbed off in places but Severus thought the toy was wonderful. His dark eyes glowed and he really wanted to hug the bear, it looked so friendly. But he remained stiff and unmoving, Snapes did not show undignified emotion for such objects.

“Go on, take him,” Harry said and pushed the bear against Severus’ cheek and pretended to make it kiss him. Severus knew the bear didn’t really kiss him, but it made him giggle and Harry smiled. He threw his arms around the bear and hugged it close.

“How about I read you a story?”

Severus took the bear and snuggled it against his cheek. He looked up at Harry and nodded.

Harry produced a book called _“The Secret Garden.”_ He said it was all about a little girl who came to live in a big house away from her family.

“Will I have to go back to mummy and daddy tomorrow, Harry?” Severus asked nervously.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry replied, his face was very close to Severus’ now and Severus could see that he had a sprinkling of freckles on his nose; he could also see Harry’s nice, sparkly, green eyes.

“I wanna stay wif you, Harry,” Severus whispered, his face very stern and serious. “You’re nice to me and don’t get cross.”

“You can stay with me if you want to, little one. I promise that I will never, ever send you away.”

Severus’ eyes filled with tears again and Harry’s got all blurry. He snuggled the bear even more closely. He was still a bit scared and he felt bad because he didn’t want to go home; he wondered if his mother would be sad if she ever found out. But it was so nice here…he felt so clean and warm and he had a bear to cuddle.

Harry stroked his hair again and it was so lovely that Severus snuggled under the covers and smiled secretly into his bear. He watched closely as Harry opened the book and began to read.

**********

On her way to the Weasley’s current quarters, Molly stopped just outside of Harry’s room and watched the interaction between the boys. She watched Harry smile and gently coax a reaction from his small companion and she wondered how a boy who had known so little affection in his own life could produce it so easily for others. Severus was thriving under Harry’s regard. He was smiling up at Harry with a look of complete adoration in his eyes. 

Harry had found Molly in the Great Hall and they and the other Weasleys had spent a time commiserating over the loss of Fred. But Harry had been too exhausted to engage in any meaningful discussion regarding Severus. It had been decided to postpone any talk until the next day. Tomorrow they would investigate, and try to find out how a six year old Severus Snape had appeared amongst them and what had happened to him. As yet the child seemed to know nothing of the adult he had been or why he was here. He had no idea about He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named, or the war, or his and Harry’s parts in it. But whether he knew Harry’s role or not, it was plain to Molly that he thought the young wizard who had rescued him was wonderful, a true hero. Those dark eyes were looking at Harry with something akin to worship.

She watched Harry settle himself on the bed beside the little boy and start reading from a battered old copy of a Muggle book Hermione had located. She watched the little boy cuddle the battered teddy bear Ron had given Harry and smiled to herself. Her youngest son was hot-tempered, just as she herself was, but he had a good heart. He’d had that teddy bear since he was a very small boy and, although he had never completely trusted it again after the twins had turned it into a spider, it had still accompanied him everywhere. 

This passing thought of the twins as children hurt, like a knife cutting through her and she knew her numbness was at last turning to grief. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she saw that Harry had curled onto the bed beside the little boy and he in turn had pushed up against Harry. Both of them had closed their eyes and seemed to be fast asleep, the book lay forgotten beside them.

Molly Weasley turned and headed down the corridor towards her new, tragically altered life; she knew things would never again be the same again and, yet, there was the promise of a brighter future.

******************


	3. Building a family

Thank you to my darling Cyndie who is a mega beta! Love you babe and Claudia too *huggles*

 

Chapter 3 – Building A Family 

 

Harry was exhausted, the last few days of his life resembling nothing so much as an out of control rollercoaster. Right now, however, he was sitting in the squashiest chair in the Gryffindor common room, situated in front of a blazing fire. Spring was coming very slowly this year and the castle didn’t seem to be warming up with its usual rapidity. Hermione thought that perhaps a number of the Castle’s inherent heating spells had been damaged during the battle. Whatever the problems, at the moment Harry didn’t care. He was finally nice and cosy in his favorite chair and he wriggled his toes at the pleasure of it all.

But the only reason he had managed to secure the chair that evening in the first place was because of Severus. The noble Gryffindors, while totally loyal to him, were in no way impressed by Harry’s position as Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World. They just knew him too well and for too long. Most of the time he found it refreshing to be surrounded by people who knew that his feet smelled and that he took far too long in the shower and that he snored loudly when he lay on his back. But it also meant that he got no special concessions on the chair in front of the fire; so, instead, he was shamelessly using Severus’ smallness and vulnerability to get possession of the coveted prize. 

Not that he hadn’t become very fond of the child in no time at all, for he had. It was a completely new experience for Harry to have someone to care for and he was surprised at just how much he did care for this surprising child.

At the moment Severus was snuggled in his lap fast asleep, clutching the battered teddy bear which he had decided to call Mary Lennox, after the little girl in ‘The Secret Garden’, a story Harry was in the process of reading to him. Ron had scoffed loudly at the name and told Severus the bear’s name was Scruffy and there was no way that Severus could name him after a girl. But Severus had prevailed, if only because of what he had said in reply: he had called the bear after Mary because it was plain and thrawn, just like Mary and just like Severus, because for a long time nobody had wanted either of them.

There was no denying the bear had seen better days. It had a misshapen ear and only one eye and it was threadbare in several places. But its thrawn-ness could only be testified to by Severus and in this he remained steadfast in perfect certitude; therefore leaving Ron, quite simply, with nothing to say.

Seeing how much the little boy identified with its heroine, Harry began to wonder if reading the Secret Garden had been such a good idea after all.

In many ways this small Severus was very like his adult self. He had many diverse layers for such a young child and Harry was sure they had only discovered a tiny proportion of them so far. He was solemn and serious most of the time but when he smiled it was like seeing sunshine after the rain. Harry also thought he was extremely bright, which he supposed wasn’t surprising given how intelligent the adult Severus had been. To Harry, little Severus’ vocabulary seemed quite advanced for a child of six and, instead of playing with toys as most kids would have done, the youngster spent his free time reading voraciously, even books Harry had thought would be far too old for him. He was especially touched by the fact that Severus refrained from pursuing the Secret Garden on his own…because that was their book to share, just the two of them, together.

Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall, now officially restored as headmistress, had spent every spare moment testing Severus in every way they could imagine. They worked ceaselessly to discover how the man had been de-aged and whether or not the changes would be permanent. Harry was anxiously waiting to hear their conclusions which he figured should be any time now.

Harry shifted his legs a bit, trying to get the blood flowing again. They had gone to sleep some time ago, not that Severus was in any way heavy, but simply because he had been perched on them a rather long time. Harry wasn’t complaining though, and he was not letting anyone move the little boy either. He was enjoying the temporary peace and quiet. The whole school was still in a general upheaval. Several people had stayed on after the battle and had yet to return home. Others no-longer had homes to go to, especially those from Slytherin House – in particular Draco Malfoy. Besides Ron and Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and the Patil twins were among Harry’s friends still in residence. Although not at present in the Common Room, they would be back from dinner at any moment. 

Even as the thought entered his mind he heard the portrait door swing open. Glancing up he saw several people came through it, including Hermione, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Madame Pomfrey and the headmistress herself. They were followed into the room by Draco Malfoy and if Harry had not had a small child wrapped around him he would have leapt to his feet in anger; but at that precise moment Severus snuggled closer and Harry didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

“What’s he doing here?” Harry snapped, gesturing towards Malfoy.

“I want to see Severus,” Malfoy whispered quietly.

Harry shook his head. “You are not getting anywhere near him, Malfoy. There’s no way I’m going to let you hurt him.”

“I won’t hurt him. I couldn’t, I… I owe him too much.”

Skeptical was hardly descriptive enough for the glare Harry cast in Draco’s direction. Surprisingly, he found the Slytherin hiding behind Hermione and looking quite scared, as though Harry might hex him at any moment – which, come to think of it, he was indeed very tempted to do. Why Malfoy thought he could get away with hiding behind the girl his own aunt had tortured, Harry didn’t know. Then, incredibly, Hermione put out a hand to reassure the blond boy and the scowl already plastered on Ron’s face deepened alarmingly. Harry realised something drastic, or at least momentous, must have happened between the three of them. He made a mental note to find out ‘what’ at a more opportune time.

Harry’s interaction with Draco was entering a perplexing stage. He didn’t want to see the boy hurt, but experienced his usual anger and distrust upon seeing him. As for Malfoy, he had been avoiding Harry ever since the he had defended the Malfoys and prevented their arrest by Kingsley Shacklebolt and a corps of Aurors the morning after that final, fateful battle. Harry had insisted the Malfoys had been coerced into supporting Voldemort, at least latterly, and that, indeed, if it had not been for Narcissa Malfoy he might have died before getting his chance to kill Voldemort. While Shacklebolt had been disbelieving, who was he to doubt the word of the Chosen One, especially in regards to the Malfoys whom Harry had never been on good terms with. Also, as he was the only eye witness to Narcissa’s defence of him, he had no grounds on which to counter Harry’s allegation; and Harry had been very determined. Kingsley had capitulated quite quickly and Harry rather suspected the Head Auror had been worn down by their previous, hour long argument regarding Severus – to which the he had also, eventually and somewhat ungraciously given way to Harry’s demands. 

Kingsley had wanted to investigate in depth, the circumstances surrounding the death of the ex-headmaster; his idea being to immediately take the child Severus into custody for suspected Death Eater activities and the murder of Albus Dumbledore and to keep him incarcerated, at least until his investigation was complete. His reason being that he strongly suspected Snape of somehow orchestrating his return to childhood as a way of escaping any punishment he might face. Harry, however, had argued that Severus was not only a spy who had been ordered to kill Dumbledore, he was also a hero who had given up everything for the future of them all. A hero who had, furthermore, been returned to childhood through no fault of his own, who apparently had no memories of his adult self and who was, to all intents and purposes, only six fucking years old. Harry’s fury at Shacklebolt’s attitude had been volcanic and it’s impact had obviously shaken a lot of people.

He had not argued alone, either. Molly had turned up half way through the heated discussion and immediately added her tornado-like energy and scathing arguments in defense of Severus Snape. Confronted by two furies, Kingsley had soon given in and, after losing to Harry over the Malfoys as well, had left in a huff and a swirl of robes, somewhat reminiscent of Severus Snape at his worst. 

The arguments had taken place in the Great Hall the morning after the final battle. They had been very loud and very public. The Malfoys had sat together in a row, holding each other tightly, and watching the exchange between Harry and Kingsley with identical looks of astonishment on their faces.

Now, a few days later and sitting in comfort in the Gryffindor common room, Harry knew exactly why he had defended Severus: he saw himself as Severus’ protector. He seemed to be only one of a very small number of people who could make the child smile and there was something intoxicating about being the only person, at all, who could encourage him to laugh. As for the adult Severus, the potions master had defended Harry time and time again and now it was Harry’s turn to repay the favour.

But as to why he had defended the Malfoys, Harry could not explain at all. Partly it was due to the fact that he just could not bear to see Malfoy separated from his family, not when the other boy had given so much, suffered so much to keep them safe. Harry knew what a family would have meant to him and he couldn’t bear to deprive anyone of that precious gift. An owl had been received from Kingsley just the day before to say that the ECDDEP, the Emergency Committee To Deal With Death Eater Punishments, hastily created by the Wizengamot upon learning of He-who-must-not-be-named-even-in-death-it-seemed, had agreed that Lucius and Narcissa would not be sent to Azkaban. Although Harry thought Lucius could rot in Azkaban for all he cared, he was happy for Narcissa and Draco. A sentence for their crimes was still to be decided but would probably involve helping the magical community to rebuild itself, together with an enormous fine and possibly some sort of house arrest. Kingsley had been adamant that they would not get off scot free without paying retribution; but Harry thought the Malfoys would happily agree to almost anything in order to stay out of Azkaban.

Harry shifted the sleeping Sev on his lap slightly to re-adjust his legs. Just because he had defended them, it didn’t mean he liked them or wanted them to play any part in his life, especially not Draco. Draco made Harry feel uncomfortable, and he couldn’t explain why. He told himself it was the same as it had always been – with the git and himself hating each other. But somehow it was not the same and neither Draco nor he were the same as they had once been; the sad, pale boy of recent months was hard to forget, and Harry found he couldn’t. He remembered in vivid detail the haunted look on Draco’s face when he’d told Voldemort he didn’t recognise Harry, the fear that had been etched in every feature of the pale face when the battle had taken place and, worst of all to Harry’s way of thinking (and something he was _never_ going to admit to anyone), the feeling of tenderness he felt when he remembered how Draco’s arm had lay heavy around his own waist when they had shared that short broom ride from the room of requirement.

More disturbing still, and something Harry didn’t quite want to acknowledge in any way, even to himself, was the strange dream he had woken to only the night before…hard and aching. He had been confused and horrified and could only assume it had been precipitated by that particular broom riding event. He had felt deeply uncomfortable all day and found himself unable to even think of Ginny, let alone face her in person. 

Seeing the object of those disturbing dreams entering the Gryffindor common room with his friends was more than Harry was prepared to handle under the circumstances. It probably explained the anger in his voice when he spoke to the blond boy, but it didn’t account for the sharp feeling of pain he felt upon seeing the hurt look in Draco’s eyes at his sharp words and snarky tone.

Yet despite Harry’s obviously belligerent attitude and Draco’s no less fearful one, the blond Slytherin made no move to leave and, as Severus chose that moment to sigh deeply in his sleep and reach out to hug Harry, Harry decided against moving, even to rid the room of a Malfoy.

At this point Minerva took control, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two boys. “We have finished our research, Harry. We have done every test we can think of, both magical and non magical. Miss Granger has been researching all possible causes of Severus’ current predicament and Poppy has conducted a number of medical investigations. As far as we can tell Severus is a perfectly normal six-year-old boy. There is no spell on him that we can locate, no trace of magical residue, nothing. Physically he is underweight for his size, but otherwise he is relatively healthy. Emotionally he is perhaps a little immature for his age, but then again, intellectually he is quite advanced for six-years-old. Oh, yes, and he absolutely has no memories of himself as an adult, whatsoever. 

“Our inescapable conclusion,” Madame Pomfrey continued, “is that Severus is just going to have to grow up in the old fashioned way and we are going to have to find him a home.”

“I’ll take him.” Harry interjected quickly. “He can stay with me.” 

Molly, Minerva and Poppy all looked at each other with concern. 

“We need to talk about it, Harry. There are things I think you need to know,” Minerva said. “Do you think you can pop him up to bed now?”

Harry felt his heart sink. He should have known they would make it difficult; his jaw tightened. 

“We are not going to take him away, Harry,” Poppy said reassuringly. “Let me take him up to bed and you can go up and see him later.”

Harry felt his arms tighten around the little boy. He didn’t want to let Severus out of his sight for some reason. Harry thought that Severus needed him and he was increasingly coming to realise that he needed Severus too.

The small boy went with Poppy unresistingly enough even if he did whimper a little in his sleep. He was dressed in the stripy blue pyjamas Harry had bought him on the mammoth shopping trip Molly had forced upon them only three days before. She had made a very reluctant Harry buy all kinds of things for himself as well, from pyjamas and socks to t-shirts, jeans and even jumpers to augment the ones that she was currently knitting for them both. Severus had insisted on having pyjamas just like Harry’s and a red bathrobe, because it was his new favourite colour.

Once Poppy left the room, everyone else sat down.

Harry frowned, “What is everyone doing here? I found him and I’ll look after him.”

“Mr. Potter, you are only seventeen; you cannot look after a child on your own.” It was Minerva who had spoken.

Harry leapt to his feet in a rush of anger. “So that’s why you’re all here? You’re some sort of delegation and you think you’re going to take him away.”

“We are not going to take him away, Potter. We are going to try and sort something out, that’s all!” It was Malfoy who spoke this time.

“What the fuck does it have to do with you?” spat Harry, turning to face Malfoy.

“I care about what happens to him. He’s my godfather and he’s done a lot for me. I have a moral obligation.”

“MORALS! WHAT DO YOU FUCKING KNOW ABOUT MORALS?” Harry screamed. He was livid at the thought of being pushed around yet again, of having his life and Severus’ being organised and controlled without their consent. It was either shout and curse as loud as he could or start hexing everybody. 

Malfoy cringed. 

“Harry!” Hermione demanded in an icy, no nonsense tone. “There is no need for such shouting.”

Harry turned to Hermione next, but he knew he was about to say something he would deeply regret, something Hermione did not deserve. So he bit his tongue and dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He was thankful now that Poppy had taken Severus upstairs as he could have frightened the child with his outburst. He blushed and turned away from everyone. 

“I’m not going to abandon him,” he uttered through clenched teeth.

“Oh, Harry, love, no one is asking you to,” Molly said softly, coming over to sit on the arm of Harry’s chair. She patted him gently on the shoulder and gave him a quick hug. “We just need to sort things out, for Severus’ sake.”

“I could look after him.” Even Harry could hear the sulkiness in his voice.

“Harry, you are definitely a part of his life and always will be. No one wants to exclude you. But…we have discovered some things during the investigation that you are not aware of…as yet. Severus is going to need a lot of support. The only thing he knows right now is that he is a little boy who has somehow arrived here. He knows nothing at all of who he was, his part in the war, nothing. You must realize he is going to have to face resentment and dislike, because of who he was, even though… _who he was_ …has nothing to do with…who he is…now. He is not going to understand this and will probably feel hurt and confused by it. And, Harry, there is more…”

Molly exchanged a glance with Poppy.

“Harry, Severus is very underweight for his height and age. He has bruises and unexplained scars. We think that he is at the very least a neglected child and possibly a child who has been abused.”

Harry felt cold; he swallowed hard.

“I know,” he whispered.

Molly looked at him with concern and Harry shrugged. She’d been trying to talk to him for days about his own childhood, but Harry kept fobbing her off, she had to know that Harry understood exactly what Severus had been through. Harry still wasn’t going to talk about it at any length, not ever if he could help it. But he had to give them something so that they would at least understand why this was so important to him.

“I saw his memories once, a long time ago.” He finally managed to confide. Harry still felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about those Occlumency lessons. Dislike had turned to hatred because of them, and it all seemed so pointless now, such a waste of time. Harry still remembered the small child in Severus’ memories, cowering in a corner. “I think Severus and I are very alike in some ways, but he got a second chance. I want a second chance too. I can’t do anything about my shitty childhood, but I can make sure he gets a better one this time round. And I am the best person for the job because I know what it’s like.

“I know what it’s like to come back from school and not have anyone to care about you; I know what it’s like to have to cope with disdain and dislike; I know what it’s like to be hungry, to have food withheld as a punishment. I’m not letting it happen to him again, not if I can help it.” Harry’s voice cracked a little on the last few words.

There was total silence when Harry finished speaking. With tears in her eyes, Molly hugged him gently. “It won’t Harry,” she said. “Arthur and I would like Severus to come live with us; we want to adopt him.”

“No!” Harry shouted, pulling out of her embrace. “You are not taking him away from me.”

“Harry, we are not taking him away. The only reason we are not offering to adopt you too is that we can’t; you are too old at seventeen. Believe me, sweetheart, we have tried often enough over the years. 

“You are already our son Harry, in all but name, and we love you. We…I…want to love Severus too, to give him the family that we couldn’t give you as a child. And we want you to be there, Harry, every step of the way!”

Harry couldn’t speak. He felt like someone was squeezing his chest too tightly. Nobody had ever wanted Harry, not for as long as he could remember and he didn’t quite know how to deal with what Molly was saying.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, although he had no idea what he was going to say. He suddenly felt totally exposed. He had said too much and all these people were watching him – _Malfoy_ was watching him getting all emotional. He ducked his head, feeling his cheeks warming with a blush turning them rosy-red. Then the silence was shattered by the screams of a child.

************

Severus had taken a long time to calm down again after his nightmare. But Harry hadn’t been cross. Harry was never cross with him, it seemed. Molly had been right. Severus had no memories of himself as an adult or of the life he’d led as that adult – at least not when he was awake, but when he was asleep…it was a different story altogether. He was plagued by terrifying images, fragmented and broken, that petrified him and left him chilled and shaking. 

His nights were often haunted by images of his father descending on him with that thick, brown belt of his, wrapped round his fist and ready to dole out a punishment. Severus hated that belt. It stung so much, cut into his flesh so deeply that he would have to stand to eat and kneel or lay on his stomach to draw or do his homework.

But tonight there had been other images. A tall man with a distorted face – a face that was thin and pale, a face that had _no nose and a mouth without lips_ – had towered over him, threatening and sinister. Severus shuddered at the very thought of the man in his dream. He didn’t know how, but he knew the man wanted to hurt him and he didn’t know why or what he had done.

He figured he would ask Harry about it. So far, Harry had listened to whatever he had wanted to talk Harry about, and Harry never made him feel stupid or bad. Perhaps he could talk to Molly, too, as she seemed to like him. But in Severus’ experience adults didn’t usually like him much, certainly his father didn’t. He knew his mum liked him, now and then, when she hadn’t had her medicine; but she always seemed to be taking medicine these days and Severus found it harder and harder to remember a time when she hadn’t taken her medicine. Severus hated it. It smelt disgusting on his mother’s breath and it made her sick. He had to help clean it up sometimes. He used to feel sick himself when he was younger, but he was used to it now and his mother needed him.

In the dream he had just had, the man with a face like a snake was going to hurt his mother. She had been sleeping like she did sometimes when she had taken her medicine. But Severus couldn’t wake her and he knew it was all his fault. He had left her alone and she had taken too much medicine…too much because he hadn’t been there to hide it, like he did sometimes when he got the chance. He had woken up screaming and the dream had been so real, so frightening that Severus couldn’t stop shaking.

Suddenly Harry was beside him, holding him close, stroking his hair and singing in a low sweet voice. And he was still here, big and strong and comforting.

No one had ever done that for Severus before. Usually if he had bad dreams Dad would shout at him to “shut the fuck up!” He knew his dad hated him, but his mum still loved him, did she not? At least sometimes.

He wondered how his mother was doing without him, whether she was getting enough to eat and drink. Severus had heard Molly and the nurse lady talking about his mother; they said she was something called ‘an alcoholic.’ He didn’t know what that was but maybe if they knew, Molly and the nurse, they would be able to help his mum. He would ask them tomorrow.

But the worst thing troubling him was that he didn’t want to go back. He liked it here, he really, really did. Molly was so nice. She had brought him new clothes, lovely new clothes that fit him properly. And when he wanted pyjamas just like Harry’s and a red bathrobe, Molly let him get them. He loved the bathrobe because it was warm and fluffy and such a beautiful red colour, and she got him matching slippers too. Usually Severus just wore whatever was clean, and sometimes he wore things that weren’t very clean, if his mum had been too ill to do the washing.

Severus knew he was being bad, because he should go back and look after his mum like he was supposed to do. When they found out how bad he was, his new friends wouldn’t like him anymore, anyway. Each day Severus told himself that he would tell Harry and Molly he wanted to go home. The problem was he knew it was bad to tell a lie and it would be a lie. He snuggled Mary Lennox and wondered if they would let him keep the bear when they sent him away.

“What is it, Severus?” Harry whispered against Severus’ cheek. “Can you tell me what is upsetting you so much?”

Severus sighed, a deep and juddering sigh which hurt his chest.

“Severus?”

“If I tell you, you won’t like me anymore,” Severus reasoned sadly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Harry and see the disappointment he was sure he would find there, because Severus knew that he loved the bigger boy as he had never loved anyone in his whole life.

“I’ll always like you, Severus,” Harry said earnestly.

Severus swallowed hard. He squeezed his hands into fists and then took a deep breath.

“Harry, I think I need to go home.” He was reluctant to tell Harry about his family. He desperately didn't want the boy he adored so much to think less of him. “My mummy needs me.” 

“Oh, Severus, no you don’t. In fact, you can’t go home, sweetheart, you have to stay with us.”

Severus looked at Harry anxiously, but Harry was looking at Molly. There were just the three of them in the bedroom now. Earlier, when he had first woken from his dream, there had been lots of people standing around: the nurse lady, whose name he could never remember; Harry’s friends, the nice girl with curly hair and the boy with freckles who had given him Mary Lennox; and the boy with the blond hair…the pretty one, the one that kept watching Harry when Harry wasn’t looking.

But there had been too many people for Severus to cope with and Harry had sent them away. He had been really glad because he didn’t like it when people saw him crying, and it made him love Harry all the more.

“Why can’t I go back, Harry?” he whispered. He knew that his parents weren’t hurt because Harry had said so. Severus could only imagine one other reason why he couldn’t go home – his mother didn’t want him anymore. And that thought hurt much more than Severus had thought it would.

**************

At first, upon Severus’ arrival at Hogwarts, no one had quite known what to make of him. Silence had fallen whenever he had come into a room and he had been watched carefully wherever he went. But after several days he had ceased to be such a novelty and he and Harry became familiar figures wandering the corridors, helping here and there where they could. Molly had become very fond of the brave, fiercely independent little boy. 

She watched the two boys now, dark heads pressed close together as Harry whispered words of comfort to Severus. Only Harry had been able to calm the little boy after this latest nightmare…for Molly knew a nightmare when she saw it. That was the puzzling thing, she and Poppy had tested Severus in every possible way regarding what he knew and remembered about himself and his life. Everything had confirmed that he was a normal child with no conscious or subconscious knowledge of his past life…at least no waking knowledge. But at night, at night Severus had dreams…no not dreams, nightmares…horrible nightmares which woke him up screaming and only Harry could calm him.

Harry was comforting him now, stroking the child’s hair and humming softly. He had a nice voice in an unexpectedly deep timbre. He was singing Celestina Warbuck’s latest hit and Molly realised with a pang that perhaps Harry didn’t know any lullabies, that he probably didn’t remember those that Lily undoubtedly sang him when was a small child himself.

Harry would always be Molly’s biggest regret. She couldn’t forget the small boy she had first seen at King’s Cross trying to work out how to get onto platform 9¾’s. She had taken the scruffy, little child with messy hair and an unloved air about him to her heart and, yet, had been unable to help him in any significant way.

She had tried, knitting him jumpers and sending him treats. She had argued with Albus every year to try and get him to allow Harry to live with them, but time and time again Albus had refused, stressing the fact that Harry was safe at his aunt’s house. Safe he might have been but loved he wasn’t, or cared for, and that had made Molly furiously angry for more than six years. She was angry that the tragic child who had witnessed the death of a school friend had had no one who cared about him, to comfort him or help him grieve. She had been angry with Sirius Black for being so flippant with Harry’s safety and with his own. Time and again, Molly thought, the adults in Harry’s life had let him down.

In Harry, Albus saw a hero who would save them all, while Sirius saw a reincarnation of his best friend and a second chance at youth. Nobody, as far as Molly could see, saw Harry. The boy had been used by just about every adult in his life. Now that the prophecy had been fulfilled and he had done his duty, she could finally look after him the way she had always wanted to, and this time no one was going to stop her.

Tomorrow she would talk to him, explain everything in more detail. She hated the fact that he had been so upset earlier. She had talked to Arthur about Harry and they both felt the best way to look after him was to look after Severus too. Harry was too old to be formally adopted but Molly thought he needed a family even more than Severus did; and she was going to ensure that, come hell or high water, he was finally going to get one. And along the way she would reassure him, she would make Harry understand that they would not take Severus away from him.

Molly thought Harry was a remarkable young man. Having had an awful childhood himself, he still seemed able to connect with a child whose childhood was nearly as bad. He gladly made time to read stories and play games with a child who had once been a man who had treated him abominably. She knew there was no way, under similar circumstances, that she could be as generous, as forgiving as Harry was. He had been desperately upset just a little while earlier, yet here he was, managing to comfort the little boy with a sort of natural instinct that, with all her experience of motherhood, impressed Molly immensely.

In Molly’s opinion, the way that Harry was taking care of one, small, lonely boy was his true heroism.

“What is it, Severus?” Harry was whispering. “Can you tell me what is upsetting you so much?”

Severus sighed. 

“Severus?”

“If I tell you, you won’t like me anymore.” Severus reasoned sadly. 

“I’ll always like you, Sev,” Harry replied earnestly.

“Harry, I think I need to go home. My mummy needs me.” 

“Oh, Severus, no you don’t. In fact, you can’t go home, sweetheart, you have to stay with us.”

“Why can’t I go back, Harry?”

Molly held her breath. She and Harry had discussed what they might say when Severus asked about where he had come from. But all she could do now was wait and listen and trust in Harry.

“Well, Severus, I want to tell you a little bit about how you came here and what happened to you,” Harry began.

“Okay, Harry,” the little boy whispered, his voice betraying nothing but complete trust in his tousle-headed hero. 

“Once upon a time,” Harry continued, “there was a very brave man called Severus Snape who was a hero and helped save the world.”

 

***************


	4. Of Rainbows at Night-time

Of Rainbows at Night-time

 

This story has been on hiatus for over a year but I am updating it again and should have another chapter up within a month. The whole story has been edited and rewritten in parts so you might want to re-read. ~ Lucie xx

Thanks to Cyndie for her wonderful help.

 

Severus was following George Weasley. The stocky red-head was on his way up to the Astronomy Tower, a place Severus had not yet explored – Molly had told him to stay away because it was far too high and the winding stone steps were slippery and dangerous. But no one had seen George leave the room and Severus was worried about him, so he followed. The bereft twin was spending more and more time alone, becoming quieter each day and Severus didn’t think anyone had noticed but himself.

They had been at Hogwarts for eight months, Severus and his strange new family, which included Harry and Molly and most of her children. The Weasleys were okay, although he didn’t really like them all. Molly, of course, he loved; but, for example, he didn’t like Percy very much. Percy didn’t live with them but he came to visit quite often and always lectured Severus about the proper way to behave. He said Severus needed to hear such things so he would grow up right this time.

Ron argued with Percy saying Severus hadn’t done too badly last time, though Ron always looked like he was sucking a lemon when he said nice things about Severus. However, Ron called Percy a ‘pompous git.’ Severus thought _pompous_ was a wonderful word. He loved words and love learning them, trying to learn at least one new word a day if he could. Ron was mostly nice to him; it had been Ron who had given him his beloved bear. But the gangly redhead was so _big_ and his hands were enormous, and he was loud and lost his temper easily – Severus found he just couldn’t feel really comfortable around the Gryffindor yet, try as he would.

And then there was George. Someone had once said that George was morose these days. Severus thought it a bit mean because morose meant miserable and Severus knew George was grieving. Still it meant George was distant with him and Severus couldn’t shake the impression that George didn’t really like him very much.

Severus knew about grief…he still missed his mum. She might not have been able to protect him, she might have been sick all the time, but she was his mother and he loved her. So he knew how George was feeling. He’d decided it was up to him to look after the surviving twin, everyone else being too busy. Molly would be pleased with him, and so would Harry, even if George wouldn’t welcome his sympathy. Deep down, it was something he just knew he had to do.

Molly was always telling him that he was as bright as a button; she said he should always trust his instincts, so that was ’xactly what he was going to do. Instinct, had saved him a number of thrashings. With a slight smirk, Severus whispered the word “Instinct”… it was another great word he liked very much. 

Molly was his favourite Weasley; she was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and was, according to everyone in Harry’s class, the best DADA teacher since Professor Lupin. Severus had no idea who ‘Professor Lupin’ was but sometimes, when he heard the man’s name, he would be overcome by a feeling of terror. Along with his usual nightmares, he began envisioning sharp teeth and a long, dark tunnel. The nightmares were not so frightening now and the fleeting yet scary images appeared so often he grew quite used to such things and let them fade as quickly as they came.

A long time ago, several months ago at least, he had told Harry about these images. He didn’t really understand them; they were always dark and frightening and filled with people he didn’t know and a feeling of menace and hopelessness. Harry had told him they were memories, that maybe, when Severus was saved by the mysterious de-aging, some part of the man that he’d been remained tucked away in his memory.

Harry didn’t really know, nobody did. Severus was, as Aunt Minnie said, an enigma. Severus liked being an enigma – he thought it was another wonderful word – but he couldn’t really blame some of the older kids at Hogwarts if they didn’t like him. He thought he must have been a man who was not very nice, despite what Harry kept telling him.

Harry said that Severus had been a very brave man, he’d been a hero. But if that was the case, if that was true, then why were the images he saw so very dark? He still didn’t know how he felt about his older self. He’d been very clever and very brave, but had he also been mean and cruel? Somehow, from little things he heard and from his own memories, Severus suspected that he had. He was determined that this time around he would try to be nice, like Harry was, even if it wasn’t very easy sometimes…’cause some people, he thought smugly while hugging his bear tightly, were just so silly.

Harry, Molly, and the other adults residing at the castle were still extremely busy these days and Severus felt a great need to be helpful as well. After all, he was really grown up now; he would be seven soon and that meant he could help out _a lot_ more. Arthur was always saying people should take responsibility for their actions and try and make amends. He’d said that about the Death Eaters, whose trials had been talked about for months. Death Eaters were cruel and evil and had hurt a lot of people. They had a lot to make up for, so everyone said, anyway. Arthur was Molly’s husband and he had to be away a lot, sorting out the Ministry. Arthur said the Ministry was an awful mess and would be for a very long time. Severus hoped that Arthur knew lots of good spells for cleaning up. 

Severus didn’t understand why, but he somehow knew he had a lot to make up for too. He bore responsibility for George, didn’t he? He didn’t remember it, but apparently it was his fault that George only had one ear. Severus was a bit ashamed he had hurt George. George was sad; he had lost his brother, his twin, and Severus thought that must be just about the worst thing in the whole-wide-world. He didn’t even want to think about how awful it would be if he lost Ha…Severus couldn’t even bring to mind his beloved hero’s name, not when he thought about George losing his twin. 

But he was also quite proud of himself, secretly, deep down. How clever he must have been once, when he was grown-up. He wished he could remember how to do the spell. He could have defended his mum if he had known how to take people’s ears off, cos that would have stopped his dad hurting her. He could have protected himself, too, when the bigger kids hurt him. But he didn’t really want to think of that right now.

Now it was just past Christmas and he was following George. It had been the best Christmas Severus had ever known. He still felt warm when he thought about it. He’d had lots of presents and the decorations were so pretty and the food had been wonderful. It had been so unlike Severus’ past experiences of Christmas. Nobody had become angry or fought. There had been no smacks, no spiteful words; in fact, since he had come to live here at Hogwarts, he had never been shouted at or hit or called names, well not by the adults anyway. His thoughts drifted back again…

Apart from the fact his mother was lost to him, the previous eight months had been the best time of Severus’ short life. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he had been, that night when Harry had found him. Everything in his life had changed for the better and it was wonderful. Summer had been the very best time Severus could ever remember. Although he seldom got Harry all to himself, Harry had taken him everywhere and they had often been outside joining the gangs of people re-building the castle. However, the best part of the summer, by far, had been when Harry taught him to fly. It had just been the two of them then, and it had been thrilling beyond his expectations.

September had brought with it the return of the students to Hogwarts. Severus had still been accompanying Harry everywhere and he found all the activity and hubbub exciting. Harry’s presence more or less ensured his protection, not that he thought he needed protection. However, as the school-weeks progressed Harry hadn’t always been able to be with him; he’d had classes to teach and places to be that were not suitable venues for a six-year-old boy. So Severus found ways to amuse himself during these times, either in his room reading or exploring the fascinating corridors of the castle. The older children had seemed to treat him kindly, although Severus got the feeling they didn’t feel very comfortable with him around. Yes, the return of the students had been okay, well mostly anyway

There was the time he had been shouted at by some boys from Ravenclaw and one of them had twisted his arm and hurt it. Later when Molly was making it better he had told her not to worry, that it was not the sorest his arm had ever been and that his dad had left far worse bruises. She had become all teary at that and hugged him; and because she was so upset and he liked her so much, he let her. 

Then there had been the day, weeks after the incident with the Ravenclaw boys, when he’d been exploring the castle with Mary Lennox and he’d suddenly found himself cornered by a group of Slytherins. They told him Professor Snape had been evil and a blood traitor (whatever that meant), then they had held him and made him watch whilst they tore the arms off his bear. Severus had been distraught, but he’d refused to cry, even when they hit him. It was exactly this moment Draco had appeared on the scene.

Severus held his bear closer, even as he climbed the stairs to the Astronomy tower. Molly had been able to fix Mary Lennox, without any difficulty at all, but Draco hadn’t and Severus would never forget the twenty minutes after Draco had rescued him, when he’d thought his bear would never have arms again. Severus came to a sudden halt when the footsteps above him abruptly ceased, as if the wizard ahead of him was listening for sounds. When they resumed, Severus followed again as quietly as he could.

It was after that incident that the two big boys had first become friends. Draco had run to Severus’ aid, throwing the boy who was hurting him to the ground and yelling at the top of his lungs that if they didn’t leave Severus alone he would, “hex them into next week.” But there were seven boys and Draco was alone. The Slytherin boys had pushed Draco to the ground and started kicking him just as Harry had arrived. 

Severus had learned over the course of his time at Hogwarts that there were many different types of spells; he also knew there were certain kinds of spells his hero was not very good at. Molly said it was due to his never being properly taught when he was little, cos his uncle and aunt were, “Even worse than the worst sort of Muggles.” Severus knew Harry’s aunt and uncle had been really cruel to him and he had never had a proper childhood. On the other hand, Harry was really, really good at defensive spells and Severus finally had the opportunity to see this for himself. Severus didn’t think anyone was as good at Defence as Harry was, not even Molly who, as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, surely knew lots of spells and hexes.

Harry descended upon the bullies and had them quickly hexed into immobility (and not _quite_ painlessly, either). Severus didn’t know who the Slytherins were and didn’t care, he was simply thrilled that Draco and Harry had rescued him. Severus had then been taken to Molly’s quarters where, to his indescribable joy, she repaired Mary Lennox as well as his torn robe. Meanwhile, the nurse lady, Madam Pomfrey, had been called in to heal Draco’s bruises and an injured wrist. When Molly finished the mending chores she’d given Severus a big hug and then hurried off, in what Severus knew to be great anger, to tell Aunt Minnie what had occurred and to see about some detentions for the unfortunate but deserving Slytherins. Severus had discovered that detentions were really punishments and he smirked happily to himself while hugging Mary Lennox tightly to his chest.

Before ‘the incident,’ as everyone called it, Harry and Draco had avoided each other as often as possible. The blond boy would watch Severus quite a lot from afar but wouldn’t try to speak to him. Severus thought he might be frightened of Harry. He would watch Harry, too, with a sad sort of longing on his face. Harry was nice to everyone, everyone except Draco. It had made Severus’ tummy hurt when Harry was cross, and the only person who ever made him cross, at least as far as Severus could tell, was Draco. Until, that is, the day of ‘the incident’. 

That evening Molly and Harry had been very angry, indeed. The boys who had attacked him were dragged into the Great Hall, terror plainly visible on their faces, and made to apologise to Severus in front of the whole school, then Harry had made them apologise to Draco, too. Severus could remember the look of pure astonishment on Draco’s face as his eyes had grown wide and then become suspiciously shiny. He knew that meant Draco was trying not to cry.

From that point on the animosity between the two young men had seemed to simply ‘Apparate’ (another word that made Severus smile) away. Draco had said something that made Harry laugh and then something else…and they had been friends ever since. George’s brother Ron hadn’t been very happy about this development and had spent a lot of time saying things Severus knew he was not supposed to hear, like “fucking ferret” and “poncy arsehole” (he’d tucked these morsels away in his memory so he could research their meanings later on). One evening, quite by accident, he had heard Ron and Hermione having a huge row. Hermione had told Ron, in no uncertain terms, that he had better get off his high horse and understand that things were different now. The war was over. Harry had said he was sick of fighting and that if Malfoy wanted to extend the olive branch Harry was going to take it. Severus had really lost the thread of the conversation then, because as hard as he tried, he could not remember seeing an olive branch anywhere and he had never seen Ron on a horse, much less a high one.

After that Harry seemed to decide he liked Draco, at least he didn’t scowl at him anymore or send him away when he hung around Harry’s friends. Harry had a lot of friends. Besides Ron and Hermione, there was Luna, who was very kind to Severus, and a very tall, very handsome boy called Neville, who seemed wary of him. Severus thought Neville was wonderful cos he had killed the evil snake that belonged to the bad wizard Harry had fought. But he was rather sad when he realised that maybe Neville didn’t really like him very much at all. 

His Harry had lots of friends. Thinking again of the weeks following his rescue by Harry last April, Severus remembered how everyone wanted to be near Harry and how hard it had been to have any time alone. In fact, for the first few days, Harry had found it hard to keep Severus with him, but he had remained adamant and wouldn’t be parted from him, something that made Severus very happy indeed. It wasn’t just Harry’s friends who demanded his attention, other people had come too: Aurors in dark blue robes, who always seemed to be everywhere back then, and even the Minister for Magic, who was called Kingsley Shacklebolt, and on three different days Harry’d had to give something called a ‘press conference’ when lots of people with notebooks and cameras and charmed quills had come along and shouted at Harry. 

Harry had killed someone. He had killed a very bad man called Vol-de-mort, which Draco said meant ‘flight of death’ in French (of all the new words Severus had learned in the last few months, he really did not like that word at all). 

But Molly had always been there to ease the way for Harry and him to be together. She and Arthur had adopted him, to his astonishment and delight…especially as they had allowed him to keep his name. So he was still called Severus Snape; he didn’t want to change his name to Weasley. He wouldn’t have minded being called Potter, but Harry was too young to adopt and to old to be adopted. This had upset Molly and Arthur, lots, because they’d wanted to adopt Harry too. But Harry was legally an adult and it hadn’t been possible. So Molly had come to live at Hogwarts and taken rooms where Severus could stay with her and be near Harry at the same time. Most of Molly’s other children came to stay quite often as well. Molly said the war had made them all see how important it was to stick together as a family. 

That was another reason why Severus was following George now. 

George slept in the other bed in Severus’ room. It was the best room he’d ever had. He had chosen the colours. The walls were green and the curtains and bedcovers were red. Harry said his room always looked like Christmas.

But George didn’t seem to care what the room looked like, he just spent lots of time lying on the bed staring at the ceiling and not saying very much. Severus hoped the man would go away soon, because Severus couldn’t play very well when George was around and Molly’s eyes were always sad when she looked at him.

Tonight, however, George had been crying. He had muffled his sobs in the pillow, but Severus had heard them anyway. He’d cried like that himself when he was little and still lived with his mum and dad. It was the best way to cry because if he cried when his dad was around he got belted and called a nancy or a poof. 

So when George had left, after he thought everyone was asleep, Severus followed him. George’s legs were much longer than Severus’ and he knew where he was going. But somehow Severus kept up and managed not to be seen. When George had headed up the twisting stone stairway Severus held back a little but now he was at the top, standing before a gnarled wooden door that was slightly ajar. Severus gave Mary Lennox an extra hug and then gently pushed the door open and squeezed through.

“You finally made it then. Still spying aren’t you? Couldn’t give that up!” George said in a dull, slightly slurred tone. He had something clutched in his hand; it looked like a bottle in a brown paper bag and smelled like the medicine that Severus’ mum used to take. “Didn’t you think that if I wanted to talk to someone I would have spoken to my family? What the Hell makes you think you have anything to offer? You’re just a fucking, scrawny kid.”

Severus cringed at the harsh words. 

His back turned to Severus, George sat hunched over with head bowed.

“Why was it you, eh? Tell me that. Why did you get a second chance? Slimey, sneaky, two-faced, fucking Slytherin. Fred never hurt anybody. He didn’t deserve to die. You were a bastard…you shouldn’t be here. It should be him. Just fuck off back to bed!”

George’s voice sounded thick and Severus knew he was choked with tears.

“I know what it’s like to be sad,” he said quietly, trying to show George that he understood.

“You know what it’s like to _make_ other people sad, you greasy git!” George spat. He still wouldn’t look at Severus, but Severus flinched at the anger in his voice and moved a step closer to the doorway. He didn’t think George would hurt him, that wasn’t the Weasley way, but it was best to be cautious.

George wasn’t speaking anymore; he was sobbing now, great rasping, shuddering sobs that wracked his frame. He was rocking with the effort of it.

Severus swallowed hard. He tucked Mary Lennox under his chin and wrapped both his arms around his bear.

“I still miss my mum,” he said in a voice that sounded tiny and broken. “I know what it’s like when someone is dead. It means they don’t come back, not ever and you never see them again.”

Glancing up at the small form across the room, George made a sound that sounded like a strangled laugh. “You’re just a kid; you’re not the same snarky bastard…” but whatever else he was going to say dissolved into muffled sobs.

Severus shivered. It was cold up at the top of the tower and he was only wearing his red bathrobe over his pyjamas and the slippers Harry had bought him. He shuffled forward, towards the parapet, towards George. Tucking Mary Lennox under one arm, Severus put his free hand on George’s back and just stood, waiting silently, as the red-headed man sobbed out his terrible grief. 

Looking down, Severus could make out the Hogwarts grounds far below. They were very high up and he could see the lake and the glen stretching out before them. The night was clear and starry over Hogwarts, but he could also see what looked like a rain shower moving toward them along the nearby loch.

Severus stood still and watched its approach. He got so confused sometimes. He didn’t know what to make of it all. Harry had explained to him that he wasn’t really a little boy, he was a grown up man – except he wasn’t, because he _was_ also a little boy. Harry said he was a little boy because of a spell, a spell that was stuck and no one knew how to take it off; so, he was going to have to grow up all over again. He knew that, had known it since Harry told him all those months ago. But he was slowly becoming aware that people hadn’t liked him very much when he was grown up and it confused him. In Severus’ experience there were ‘Goodies,’ like knights and heroes and princes, and ‘Baddies,’ like trolls and snakes and evil wizards. But despite what Harry said, about him being a hero, more and more people were telling him he had been a horrible man. So how could he have been a hero too? 

He would ask Harry again, as soon as he could, because Severus really didn’t want to be a mean, nasty man, like his father had been. He shivered again, uncomfortable at thinking such things about his father, even if those things were true.

Finally, George stopped crying. He rubbed at his face roughly and looked at Severus.

“M’sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You’re only a kid now, aren’t you? Nothing to do with him.”

Severus’ stomach lurched, so George hadn’t liked him either, when he was a grown-up. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

George gave a deep, rattling sigh.

“I don’t know what to do without him…without Fred.” 

Severus didn’t think George was talking to him. He was staring into the distance, not seeming to see anything. Severus carried on listening anyway. 

“He was the other part of me, the best part,” George said. “He finished my sentences, he finished me! We didn’t even have to speak to know what the other one was thinking; I’m only half a man without him.”

Suddenly he was glaring at Severus, seemingly getting cross again, as he said, “You don’t remember him, huh?” 

Severus tried to remember, he tried to imagine two of George: a George who wasn’t all tearstained and red-eyed, a George with two ears and a smiley face. But he couldn’t, he could never really remember things except as fleeting moments in dreams. 

He shook his head. 

“Course if you did remember him you would probably despise him,” George said coldly, changing mood yet again. “You never liked either of us. Mind you, you didn’t like anyone very much.”

“I must have liked Harry,” Severus told the sad man firmly.

George began to laugh. His laughter sounded cold and cruel and now Severus wanted to cry; of course he’d liked Harry, everyone liked Harry and Severus loved him. Was George saying that Severus didn’t used to like Harry? Did that mean Harry didn’t like him?

He buried his face against Mary Lennox’s tummy and started to cry, too. The fur had worn away there and he could see the weave of the fabric, but he liked the way his bear smelled; she smelt comforting. He’d tried to help George, but George kept changing and Severus didn’t know how to react. 

“For Merlin’s sake!” George said, causing Severus to flinch away from him and cry harder. He reached out and grabbed Severus’ hand, gently. 

“It’s all right, Severus. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you. I-I was just angry with myself. I shouldn’t take it out on you. You’re just a kid.”

“I DO like Harry!” Severus shouted, angrily pulling his hand back from the man’s grasp. “And he likes me!”

George gave Severus a funny, broken little smile. “He does that, kid. He’s fiercely protective of you. He’d kick my arse if he knew I made you cry.”

The man reached out again and this time put his arm around Severus. “You’re freezing; you shouldn’t have followed me here.”

Severus allowed himself to be pulled closer; he was very cold after all, but he wouldn’t relax into the hug like he did with Harry. He didn’t even let Molly hug him very often. Severus felt uncomfortable with too much affection.

“Why did you follow me, Severus?” George asked, putting the bottle down and focusing his attention totally on the boy. 

Severus looked up at him, wondering what to say. If he said the wrong thing would George be angry again?

He swallowed, hard, and wondered how to explain to Molly’s sad, lost son that he understood how he was feeling.

When he had been very little, and his mum hadn’t been ill all the time, she had a whole shelf full of pretty glass animals that she let Severus play with and together they would make up stories. She had so many animals: dolphins, cats and dogs, a tiger and a rabbit and a squirrel with a glittery tail – but Severus’ very favourite animal was a unicorn. It was so beautiful. It had a long curly horn on its nose that reflected light into rainbows. His mother told him once that rainbows were made of angel’s tears and that the angels were crying because sometimes people were bad to each other. However, rainbows were so beautiful because most people were good and did their best and that meant there was always hope. She also said the rarest and most beautiful rainbows were the ones that happened at night and very few people ever saw one; they were almost as rare as unicorns. She told him that if he ever saw such a rainbow, he would know that someone he loved was watching over him and that he was loved in return.

One day, when his mother and father had a row Severus’ dad had smashed all the animals into lots of tiny pieces and soon after that his mother had begun to be sick all the time.

Severus thought that losing someone you loved was like those shattered pieces of animals, little broken bits of something that had once seemed so wonderful. He’d felt like he had been smashed into a hundred pieces, too, when Harry first told him his mother had died. But he hadn’t been able to cry, the hurt had been too great. It was like those pieces of broken glass had lodged in his throat and stoppered it up. He had not been able to cry for his mum. 

Severus knew what dead was. Dead meant that you never ever came back, just like his mother, just like her beautiful glass animals. So he took a deep breath and he told George all of this.

When he finished George was crying again. But this time he had buried his head against Severus’ dressing-gown covered chest and sobbed against him. Severus held Mary Lennox as high as he could, so she wouldn’t get wet, then he gently patted George’s back, like Harry did for him when he was sad.

Finally, George stopped crying and eventually he pulled away. This time when he looked at Severus, though his eyes were red and swollen, they seemed clearer. “Thank you, Severus,” he said in rasping tones.

For a while, they sat there, side-by-side, neither of them saying anything

Severus watched the rainstorm settle into the glen. They were high above it, perched atop the Astronomy Tower, and they could still see the clear night sky. The moon was bright, almost full. It was then Severus saw the moonbow. 

“Oh Merlin!” George breathed. “Look, Severus, just look!” 

And Severus did, as the pale rainbow stretched wider across the glen and shimmered in the moonlight. 

“It’s just the moon, refracting on the raindrops,” George stated, almost firmly. “Isn’t it? But why now? Why when you’ve just told me that story? Why all of a sudden, when I’d notice it, when I could see it? I’ve never seen one before, not ever, not until now.”

The moonbow continued to glisten across the glen, like a gauzy silver ribbon, pale and almost translucent. 

“Oh, Fred.” George whispered sadly. He reached over and took Severus’ hand again in his much larger one and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He’s watching over us, isn’t he?” 

Severus nodded, not wanting to disagree. But deep down, deep in his heart, he wondered if perhaps his mother was watching over him too

.  
**************


End file.
